


i don't want no savior

by kathillards



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Samurai
Genre: F/M, rpm world, sad christmas sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathillards/pseuds/kathillards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in Corinth is nothing more than an exercise in pretending the world still spins on. —- Mike and Lauren, alone in the new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't want no savior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [advaevika (tabbersy)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=advaevika+%28tabbersy%29), [mcmeekin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmeekin/gifts).



> dedicated to jess and kat for absolutely destroying me with their post-apocalypse megaforce fics so here's a taste of their own medicine.
> 
> happy holidays, everyone, i hope it's better than what these kids have been through.

**i don't want no savior**

_that's my life, nothing's sacred_  
_i don't fall in love, i just fake it_

— fun., at least i'm not as sad as i used to be

* * *

Corinth at Christmastime is a haze of snow and fairy lights, a veritable winter wonderland designed by the best engineers in the dome. Mike stands at the foot of the Christmas tree, rising high into the snowy skies in the middle of the park, looks up at the star sparkling golden on top, and thinks of something better than what he has in this glass city.

His scarf is blue. He tugs on it, wraps it tighter around his throat, and sets down a box to add to the pile. People leave gifts under the tree, presents for anyone who needs them, for the people who lost everything in the apocalypse, the little kids wandering the park who won't have parents to buy them a new bike or new toys.

He likes to think of the gifts more as a sacrifice to gods that have stopped listening, the powers that gave him this life, that destroyed his world. Boxes upon boxes, shimmering with wrapping paper and ribbons, encasing hopes and dreams that will never come to fruition. A shrine to a world long lost.

His box has a black-and-white checkered scarf and pink mittens. For the winter, for people who needed them more than he does. For the gods that aren’t there, that haven’t listened to his pleas, begging for his team back. For the people he used to love.

Christmas in Corinth is nothing more than an exercise in pretending the world still spins on.

/

_Emily laughs, leaning up to attach the mistletoe to the doorway, her legs swinging over Jayden's shoulders as he smiles in fond amusement up at her. Mike would worry she's about to fall, the way she's tipping side to side to get the mistletoe just right, but Jayden's hands are steady on her legs, holding her still, keeping her on him._

_He would never let her fall._

_"Now you guys have to kiss!" Mia calls from the kitchen where Kevin is desperately trying to switch out her pie for a store-bought one without her noticing. Antonio lets out a whoop from the couch and Mike makes a face at him as his zombie decimates Mike's in their video game._

_Jayden rolls his eyes as Emily giggles and bows her head to plant a kiss to his forehead. "Stop giving Antonio ideas," he complains to Mia before letting Emily slide down from his shoulders and dart over to Mike._

_"Don't worry," Antonio says cheerfully, "I already know how to get_ you _under the mistletoe."_

_Mike bursts into laughter along with the rest of them as Jayden flushes red and tosses a pillow at Antonio, which distracts him long enough for Mike to win the video game._

/

His head is spinning from the overwhelming stench of peppermint and hot cocoa being sold around the park by the time he weaves through the crowds and ends up on the lonely starlit streets, crossing paths with all the other people who don't want to deal with Christmas in the park, Christmas surrounded by people and yet still alone, Christmas at the end of the world.

He understands. In the pocket of his coat, his hand clenches around a yellow flower barette. It cuts into his palm, not nearly hard enough to draw blood, but enough to remind him that the pain is real. It's only plastic, harmless and useless, but he keeps it for the reminder.

His feet lead him instinctively to an apartment downtown. He hates it, hates the unassuming white door, the memories it holds, the smell of cookies wafting through. He almost turns around, but it's too late, the door is opening.

Nobody ever accused Lauren Shiba of not having samurai instincts.

/

_Lauren looks uncertainly at Kevin, then the mistletoe hanging above them. "And this is a... tradition?" she asks carefully, glancing at Mia for confirmation._

_"It is here," Mike replies over Mia's giggling, swinging over the kitchen counter to observe them. "If you don't kiss, Antonio will be very upset, and trust me, you don't wanna deal with that."_

_Mia snorts, elbowing him. "Not that you would know. You kiss everything with a pulse."_

_"We'll have to show you pictures of Mike kissing Mentor one day," Kevin agrees and Mike grins cheekishly at her. Lauren blinks at him and then shakes her head._

_"Right," she says slowly, turning back to Kevin. "So how do we -- ?"_

_Kevin glances at Mike and Mia, then smiles reassuringly at her. "It's not that much," he tells Lauren, leaning down to press his lips to hers quickly. Mike cheers, mostly because he's impressed -- Kevin has gotten so much less uptight about kissing under the mistletoe since Antonio started mandating everyone has to kiss with no excuses last year._

_Lauren pulls back, her brow furrowed but a tentative smile on her face. "I've never kissed anyone before," she admits, stepping out of the doorway._

_Mia wraps an arm around her shoulders and grins. "Well, you could do a lot worse than Kevin."_

/

"Expecting company?" he asks, hanging up his coat and waffling at the edge of the doorway, eyeing the arch that opens into her kitchen, the only brightly-lit room in the house.

"No, just me," Lauren says, brushing her hair out of her face. It's loose and in curls today, streaked with flour, uncharacteristically messy. Mike prefers it this way to her pin-straight ponytail, a reminder that even Shibas can get messed up.

Even Shibas can be hurt.

"I thought I'd do something festive this year, so I made cookies," she continues with a shrug, heading back to the kitchen. She offers no invitation, but he follows her anyway. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," he says bluntly, and he can hear her pause, the split-second awkwardness, the way her eyes dart towards him then away. He almost feels bad about it, but it's the end of the world, so he figures the time for etiquette has passed.

Mentor Ji would be disappointed in him, if he were here.

If any of them were.

"What's wrong with your place?" Lauren asks. It's not as sweet a reply as she would have given if he wasn't him and she wasn't her and they weren't in Corinth for Christmas.

"It leaks," he says dryly.

"It's out in the middle of the wastelands," she retorts.

He rolls his eyes. "Sorry, some of us don't want to spend our lives inside a fucking dome."

Lauren's shoulders tense, but she shows no emotion otherwise, except in the bite of her voice. "Why did you come here?"

Mike rounds the kitchen counter to where she's standing, the tray of cookies behind her slowly cooling under the lights. She looks up at him, her back against the counter, eyes bright and blue and daring him to come closer.

He does.

/

_"Do not slobber all over me," Mike says firmly, pointing an accusing finger at Antonio. "I've seen how you kiss."_

_"Oh, like you're so much better," Antonio scoffs. Mike gapes at him in outrage and turns to Emily for help but she's laughing too hard to comment. Traitor._

_"It's true, you both kiss like dogs," Jayden chimes in, and even Lauren has to giggle at that. "Come on, just get it over with before somebody gets hurt."_

_"Well, now, I'm just not in the mood," Mike huffs. Antonio sticks his tongue out at him._

_"Would you like me to take you to dinner first?" he asks sarcastically._

_"Only if it's expensive," Mike retorts. "I like lobster."_

_Antonio narrows his eyes at him and lunges. Mike barely has time to smirk before Antonio has him tackled to the ground and is kissing him exuberantly while Emily falls off the edge of the couch in laughter._

/

He wakes up to the sun filtered through gray clouds and the white lace of her bedroom curtains, blinking at the light. Her sheets are soft and tangled around him; she's nowhere to be found. It takes him a few minutes to notice the sound of the shower running nearby.

With a sigh, he works himself into a sitting position, reaching for his shirt lying discarded on the floor. He hates how familiar this ritual has become, how predictable they are, how utterly lost he is without his team there to guide him. How he keeps ending up in Lauren's bed and it never manages to heal his heart any. How she always looks at him the same way, lonely and sad and never, ever enough.

Never the way Emily did. Never anything more than what they are.

She comes out of the shower as he's buckling up his jeans, her hair damp and curling at the ends, her towel a sterile shade of white. He hates how much white is in her house, too, the absence of color, the lack of anything tying her to her past, their team, the people they used to be. He likes to count the red he can spot, in the photographs she has, the kitchen mitts she buys, the flowers she keeps in a vase as if that'll make her apartment look more cheerful.

Even at Christmastime, there's no cheer in Corinth, not for people like them.

"Are you heading back?" she asks over her shoulder as she sits on her side of the bed to put on her clothes. Mike doesn't look, even though it wouldn't matter if he did, but he likes to pretend some semblance of normalcy after a night like last.

"Got nowhere else to go," he says in reply, swinging his jacket on. Green, always green. He keeps their colors with him when he can, but some things have to stay green. Emily bought him this jacket for his nineteenth birthday.

There's a pause like she wants to say something else, but she doesn't. When he looks back at her, she's wearing a red sweater, the sleeves too long for her arms, her slender frame dwarfed in it. The sight is like a knife to his heart.

_Jayden. It's Jayden's._

He looks away again, trying to quell the feeling of nausea. "Merry Christmas, Lauren," he mutters, and he leaves before he can hear her whisper it back.


End file.
